


Don't lock up the hawk

by singingdevil



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Claustrophobia, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, please take these children away from me before i hurt them more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6439411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingdevil/pseuds/singingdevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The hawk has a death grip on the sink and his legs are shaking under him. Midorima steps in, carefully, and places his hand on Takao's shoulder. He tenses up a bit but doesn't react otherwise, so Midorima moves to stand behind him.<br/>"Takao", he starts, quietly and carefully. "What's wrong?""</p><p>In which the non-regulars of Shuutoku don't like a first-year being a regular, Takao is afraid of cramped spaces and Midorima's instincts for this once tell him what to do outside the court or classroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't lock up the hawk

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I've been kinda inactive with my writing lately. This piece has been incomplete for at least six months I think but it's finally ready! I apologize beforehand because I'm a horrible person and I like to pour my own feelings on my favorite characters.

Ootsubo is seething with rage, along with the other third years. Miyaji isn't threatening anyone with pineapples and trucks; he's simply glaring at the four members of their team in front of them, barely holding in his urge to break everyone's noses. Kimura isn't even trying to calm anyone down; he's enraged too, burning the boys in front of them with his glare.

Midorima is kind of glad for the situation right now. He passes the scene with Takao, who is still shaking like a leaf in a storm, his hand steadily on the shorter boy's back, counting his breaths and tapping a slow rhythm with his thumb to make sure that the hawk remembers to count. They're both cold; they've been standing outside for nearly twenty minutes and the day, although bright and quite warm, has been very windy and the wind that's blowing is quite cold.

The shooter leads his partner slowly to the locker room, matching his steps to Takao's slower and shorter ones. The hawk is hugging himself tight, taut with tension and jerky in his movements. Midorima vaguely notices that Takao's eyes, red-rimmed and glazed over, seem to be permanently stuck open, large as plates and stubbornly refusing to blink; it's as if he fears that the second he closes his eyes he'll be back in the small cramped dark _locked_ storage room with his teammates laughing at him on the outside and yelling something about a caged bird. His skin still has the sickly greenish gray tint to it and as much as Midorima would like to go and snap the necks of the three second-years and one first-year for doing this to Takao, the hawk's wellbeing is now more important.

But he's just so _angry_. How could anyone do something like that? Takao might be annoying at times but he's quite sure he's probably the only one who thinks even that (but he loves his partner so much that it hurts anyway); the boy is a ray of sunshine, always smiling and always nice to everyone, a skilled player and just overall a dazzling person. Midorima honestly can't think about anything that could make anyone lock him into a storage room and leave him there to listen to mocking. He wonders if his teammates knew about Takao's claustrophobia beforehand (even if they didn't, they sure as hell do now). He just hopes they will be kicked out of the team and maybe that Miyaji finally steals Kimura's family truck and drives over the assholes. Preferably when he's seeing it.

They reach the locker room and Takao shrugs Midorima's hand off, making a beeline to the bathroom's door.  Midorima trails behind him, worry glinting behind his glasses. Takao doesn't bother putting on the lights as he enters, but he leaves the door wide open as he splashes water on his face. Midorima stays out of the doorway, afraid of scaring the hawk.

The shooter hears as Takao closes the tap and the flow of the water ceases. He waits patiently for his partner to emerge, but he hears no movement at all, and after waiting for a while he calls Takao's name softly and glances into the dim bathroom.

The hawk has a death grip on the sink and his legs are shaking under him. Midorima steps in, carefully, and places his hand on Takao's shoulder. He tenses up a bit but doesn't react otherwise, so Midorima moves to stand behind him.

"Takao", he starts, quietly and carefully. "What's wrong?"

Takao lets go of the sink and leans backwards, leaning on Midorima's chest. The shooter wraps his hands around Takao and the shorter sinks further back, and now Midorima can feel his still erratic heartbeat.

"It's nothing, Shin-chan", the hawk rasps, his voice raw and tired. "Sorry. 'm fine." Midorima doesn't believe this, not when Takao is still trembling and looks like he's about to be sick.

"Don't lie to me, Takao. You're quite clearly not fine." Midorima frowns and tightens his hold as he feels Takao starting to slide down.

"Okay, yeah", Takao lets out a short, breathy laugh. "Maybe I gotta sit down for a bit", he continues as Midorima grabs his arms to keep him upright as his knees give in under him. He helps the shorter to the floor and props him against the cold wall, settling down next to him. Midorima wants to ask about what happened, needs to know how their teammates managed to lock him in, but he won't do that now because Takao is still shaking, his eyes staring at the doorway and his fingers crushing Midorima's hand to keep himself grounded in the present. And Midorima squeezes his hand back, for this once not caring about the dull ache in his fingers, because if this is what Takao needs then he will gladly indulge the hawk.

They sit there for a moment, listening to each other's breathing (Takao has finally managed to get it under control, thank heavens). Takao still hasn't closed his eyes for more than an occasional blink here and there, and Midorima finds himself leaning closer to press a light kiss on the other's temple. He understands that it's a risk, understands that what Takao needs right now is space, but as the silvery blue eyes turn to look at him he sees a "thank you" imprinted in them and knows that for this once his intuition was right for something else than basketball.

After a while Midorima drags himself up and extends his hand to pull Takao up too. At least in the darkness he no longer looks so sick, but the weariness from The Panic Attack of the Year still lingers in his sluggish movements and sunken eyes as he staggers on his feet. Midorima leads him out of the bathroom slowly, hand steady between his partner’s shoulder blades, and Takao complies easily as the shooter coaxes him to change his clothes and pack his stuff. They’re both getting ready to leave, Midorima having already decided to pedal the damn rickshaw, when there’s a soft rap of fingers against the locker room door to, more to get their attention than actually knocking.

Miyaji and Ootsubo are standing in the doorway, concern in their expressions (it was Miyaji who got Takao out of the storage room and Miyaji who walked the shaking point guard to the bathroom to throw his guts up). Ootsubo’s voice is soft when he asks if Takao is going to be okay, as if he’s afraid the hawk could go into another panic attack right then and there (and he could, really, if he was being crowded, but the room is relatively spacey and Takao knows he can get out the second he wants to). Takao offers a shaky smile in response, not capable of his usual cheer and liveliness just yet – no, that’s gonna take a good night’s sleep.

“I’m fine, really”, he answers, though it’s not quite true, not yet. “I just… uh, do you know why they did it?” Takao asks the question that has been plaguing his mind ever since the click of the lock behind him. The question in itself sets him on edge and he hears the click in his ears again, echoing around in his head. His breath hitches again and he instinctively reaches for Midorima's hand to keep him grounded.

He gets three worried glances at once, Midorima's fingers quickly lacing with his.

“Takao, you—“ Midorima starts, worry lacing his tone and spiraling in his eyes.

“I gotta get out. Now,” the shorter interrupts and Midorima takes his stuff and Takao’s stuff and yanks his boyfriend with him as their senpai move away from the door.

* * *

Once outside, Takao gets his breathing under control again. He doesn’t protest when Midorima offers to pedal and settles to the back, weariness weighing down on his shoulders and exhaustion tormenting his whole body. Midorima spares him one last worried glance before he starts pedaling down the street and Takao drifts off.

He’s roused from his slumber by a soft nudge at his shoulder. He has difficulties opening his eyes but when he finally manages, he’s staring into pools of bright green framed by glasses and the sight feels so _safe_ he nearly starts crying again. He doesn’t, though, but manages a small smile instead. Midorima helps him up and walks him to the front door of his home. Takao opens the door and is about to step inside when he halts and turns around to face the shooter again.

“Thanks”, he starts a little awkwardly. He smiles tiredly and looks Midorima straight in the eyes. “I love you”, he sighs before he presses his head to his boyfriend’s chest.

Midorima kisses the top of his head and hugs him tight.

“Do you want me to come inside?” he asks tentatively, worried about leaving the hawk alone.

Takao ponders the question for a second or two, until he offers his brightest smile today.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Uh................... yeah. Idk. Feedback?


End file.
